Crime Scene Tape
by celticgina
Summary: How does a crime scene feel from the inside?   Grace learns the hard way.  Hints of future GRIGSBY  Spoilers for last season ender.  One shot needs love and reviews!


**Now that we are a few episodes into the new season, this story might be a little dated. But it's been hovering in my mind for a while. **

**I am playing with another idea or two. No matter what the show plans, I think we need to get our kids back together. But first, can we get the crap out of Rigsby's hair? WTF? Did he watch one too many episodes of MAD MEN?**

**This is for Schnerbs, in the interest of keeping my appliances safe.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, hoo baby! Alas, I don't.**

**CRIME SCENE TAPE**

It wasn't the blood, or noise or even the smell of the gunshot residue that pierced her composure. It was the crime scene tape. The same tape she had rolled out as a rookie cop, learning to secure the perimeter of the scene. The same tape she learned to blithely duck under so many times as a CBI agent. It was a warning to those who would come for a closer look. It kept the civilians out and the professionals inside its border. Really, it was just plastic. It came in huge rolls and every cop in the country had some in their vehicle. But oddly enough, it served as a deterrent to those who would contaminate the evidence.

This time though, the glaring yellow and black seared her eyes. She was part of that crime scene. She couldn't leave until she and her knowledge had been processed. When she first headed out to duck under it, she was prevented by a uniform. She almost shook him off. But when a fellow CBI agent, pulled at her as well, she began to comprehend, really what that tape meant.

She had shot a suspect. Wait, her brain reminded herself. She shot an FBI agent. She shot her fiancé. She was supposed to be marrying this man in a very short time. Therefore, certain protocols were put in place immediately. Her weapon was surrendered to ballistics, in an evidence bag. She was checked for injuries. And then she was told not to go anywhere. So, she stood in a kind of daze. But then she saw the tape. She could go past that surely. Apparently not.

Special Agent Mills pulled her aside to get her initial statement. As a cop, she knew she would be asked to recount these events over and over again. They were looking for things she missed the first time she talked. They were looking for evidence that would piece it all together for them. Mostly, they were looking for inconsistencies in her statement. If her statement wasn't consistent, it would send up a red flag to the investigators. Internal Affairs loved that. It meant a cop was lying.

So she stared at that garish plastic strip, wondering how her life had come to this. This morning things had been good. She was an agent in Major Crimes with the CBI. She was good at what she did, and getting better. She had dated and loved a fellow agent and broken both their hearts for this job. Then she got her miracle. A man, a good man, an FBI agent asked her out. They dated, and he popped the question. She was planning her dream wedding to Craig, who seemed almost perfect. The only dark spot was Wayne. He refused to come to the wedding. He still loved her. But even that moment, as wrenching as it was, had a kind of noble beauty about it. He wouldn't run up the aisle to stop it. Instead, he kissed her farewell.

Even this horrible sting operation that Jane had started. Hearing Craig was a suspect was jarring and beyond comprehension. In her heart, she knew Jane was wrong. Jane always did this. He threw in red herrings to distract people from what he wanted them to see. It was a living nightmare when Lisbon took that call and turned to look at Craig. Grace knew that look. Craig had done something awful. But it wasn't until in a slow motion that played over and over again, he took out his gun and shot Lisbon. Grace and Hightower reacted instinctively. Their actions were born out of some of the best training in the world.

She felt a slight sting on her neck. Why was it scratched? She put her hand up just in time to remember that necklace he had pulled off her as he died. Even in death, he took that last little thing from her. Her heart and dignity weren't enough, she supposed.

She was pulled aside by Bolt and Grobhan, from IA. They asked her the questions. She answered them simply and honestly. She had nothing to hide. She understood that in being engaged to Craig, no, she would think of him now as O'Laughlin, she would be under a cloud of suspicion. After all, they would reason, she was an agent. How did she not know? She would have asked the same question. Finally, they told her not to go anywhere. Did they really think she would hop on a plane for her honeymoon now?

She felt so alone. Lisbon was in an ambulance. Hightower was being questioned even as she tried to calm her children. Cho and Wayne were, well, they she wasn't sure where they were. She just remembered that Wayne had called her. O'Laughlin talked her into not taking the call. What if he had been calling to warn her? He probably had been. Even though she had broken his heart, he would always protect those he loved.

He loved. God, how wrong could she have gotten this? The IA rats were eyeing her again. The agent understood they were doing their job. But she also hated how they loved ruining a cop. She was suddenly very cold. She began to shiver, without realizing it. She was sure she was keeping it together.

Suddenly, a jacket was placed around her shoulders. The scent was the first clue. She looked up and Wayne was standing there, that sweet uncertain look on his face. He opened his mouth and closed it without talking. Sometimes there was no words.

The barking tone in Bolton's voice brought her back.

"Agent, what are you doing? Agent Van Pelt is not to have contact with her unit. Get away now."

He went to take the jacket off Van Pelt roughly. It was a mistake, he soon learned. The arm attached to the hand grabbing Grace was manacled by a large hand Bolton would later swear was made of steel. He could literally feel the sinew and bones in his arm being crushed.

"She was cold. It stays."

Those five words were barely whispered. Bolton risked a glance up at the large man standing so close. It was another mistake. The blue eyes chips of frost. He let his fingers come away.

"Wayne. It's fine. I don't' want them pulling you into this."

She tried to shrug off the jacket. IA was looking for something. It was better not to give them anything.

"Keep it on Grace. We are all going to be pulled in."

Those same hands that were about to crush an agents arm seconds before came up to her shoulders briefly, and so very gently squeezed. As if realizing what he was doing, he stepped back.

"Thanks."

She wasn't really cold. But somehow the weight and scent of his jacket calmed her. How odd that after all this time she could feel this way. Even in this horrific moment, she felt safe and protected by his presence. Her name was called again. She had to go. She slipped off the jacket and handed it back to him over his protests. She would carry that warmth with her, she knew. As she passed finally beyond the tape, to the waiting SUV, she decided she would think about what that meant later.

She glanced back briefly. It was a crime scene, like any other. Techs, cops, and bosses milled about. She wondered if she would ever see this scene again as an agent. If she did, would she ever view it the same way? Probably not.

**Don't go looking for more on this one. It was just an angsty little one shot. Do we like? Should I get back into writing for these two kids again? Are we still interested in GRIGSBY? I haven't seen too much out there and was wondering how we feel? The bunnies want to know!**


End file.
